


country dances, country boys

by seventhstar



Series: it promises light [4]
Category: Pride and Prejudice & Related Fandoms, Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alpha Victor Nikiforov, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Regency, Female Friendship, Jealousy, M/M, Omega Katsuki Yuuri, POV Outsider, Regency
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-04
Updated: 2018-01-04
Packaged: 2019-02-28 01:46:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13261026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seventhstar/pseuds/seventhstar
Summary: "I have heard that the Duke is come back to town this season."There was no question of which Duke it was, for only one of the current Dukes in the ton was young and handsome and sufficiently scandalous."Indeed. I suppose he must have finally tired of country living.""Not to mention his country groom!"





	country dances, country boys

**Author's Note:**

> finally, we've reached the logical conclusion of this series: an ACTUAL pride and prejudice crossover.

"What a crush this is!" Miss Bingley, twenty-six and nearly on the shelf, giggled behind her fan.

Her companion, the equally conniving and equally unmarried Miss Withers, flicked her fan as to display her tiny wrists—her best feature—to best advantage.

"Quite a ball. But then Lady Baranovskaya assured me it would be."

"I do adore her. Her townhouse is exquisitely decorated."

"It is nothing to her family estate."

Having both managed to allege a greater connection to their host than was warranted, seeing as neither of the two could even boast of conversation with the formidable Lady Baranovskaya longer than a quarter of an hour, both ladies turned to their favorite pastime: gossip.

"I have heard that the Duke is come back to town this season."

There was no question of which Duke it was, for only one of the current Dukes in the ton was young and handsome and sufficiently scandalous.

"Indeed. I suppose he must have finally tired of country living."

"Not to mention his country groom!"

The bitterness in the two women's voices could not be concealed. Both Miss Bingley and Miss Withers had set their caps at Duke Nikiforov in the past, and both of them had been rebuffed. They had good dowries, middling connections, and practiced, fashionable manners. Yet the Duke had paid them no attention, instead had flirted outrageously with a poor nobody from who knew where, and had had the ill breeding to marry him instead.

"His parents are innkeepers, if you can believe it. To think that an alpha of his status—"

"Well, a lower class omega will have certain charms."

"In the library in broad daylight, even."

"I do hope someone has told the poor thing that married omegas do not wear sheer gowns."

"Do you think he frequents a modiste, or does he sew his own? Shall he come dressed like an Oriental?"

"Miss Bingley!“ Lady Gastonbury, who was only nineteen and blind to the superciliousness of others, grasped her arm in excitement. "I have just seen Duchess Nikiforov in the receiving room! Oh, his gown is to die for!" She leans in. "His wrap is fringed with emeralds!"

"Really."

"It must have cost a fortune! The Duke must love him exceedingly. I hope I may have the chance to speak to him tonight so I can ask who made it."

"How vulgar," Miss Withers said, her voice trembling with envy. Her shawl was a dull olive color with a bit of silver embroidery, and when her uncle saw the bill from the modiste he withheld her allowance for three months.

"Is the Duke with him?"

Lady Glastonbury sighed with pleasure. "He is. And they _match."_

Miss Bingley and Miss Withers both pursed their lips. Both of them were thinking identical thoughts: _why him and not me?_ Miss Bingley had never even touched an emerald, and to lose the Duke to Mr. Katsuki on top of the indignity of little Eliza Bennet and Mr. Darcy's wedding was more than she could bear.

"Do you suppose he is really wearing emeralds on his wrap?" Miss Withers asked. "He must be with...well, you know."

"What?" Miss Bingley, lost in thoughts of how well _Mrs. Caroline Darcy_ would have sounded, asked.

“If he has any sense he will have an heir at once, while his charms are fresh.”

“Indeed. Although I shudder to think what their children will look like! He has the most queer-looking eyes!”

Someone gasped behind them. Misses Bingley and Withers both turned, mortified that they had been overheard, although their concern for their reputations was greater than any sympathy they might have had for the former Yuuri Katsuki and his feelings. But they were in possession of a dubious kind of luck: the sudden frenzy in the ballroom was not due to their abominable manners.

The Duke and Duchess had just made their way into the room, and they were every bit as enviable as the excitable Lady Glastonbury had made them seem.

The two lady omegas fled for the dressing room with all alacrity, thin excuses pouring unheard from both their lips. There, they refreshed themselves, and arranged their hair more becomingly in the mirrors, and made themselves agreeable to Lady Jersey, whose civilities were so cold as to leave the two in no doubt of the odds of either of them gracing the halls of Almack’s in the near future.

It was in this state, both ladies attending to their fans and gloves, that they were met with yet another opponent: one Mr. Phichit Chulanont, dressed cunningly and shocking in scarlet despite being unmarried, fan in hand and smile wide.

“Miss Bingley, Miss Withers! How do you do?”

“Very well, and you?”

“Oh, me? I am fine, and very glad to be at a ball.”

“Yes, it can be so difficult to score invitations into the homes that matter if one’s connections are...obscure,” Miss Withers said.

“You are _so_ right, Miss Withers! But I hope that this year Lady Jersey will have mercy on you even if your uncle _is_ a coal merchant. I only received my voucher recently, so there is no cause for alarm on your part.”

The idea that Phichit Chulanont, who actually made his living by running a theatre rather than depending on an alpha relative, could be admitted to Almack’s while she could not struck Miss Withers entirely dumb. If she could have gotten into her carriage and gone home at that very moment, she would have. It was clear all of the beau monde had gone quite mad.

As it was, she was left to hide behind Miss Bingley, who was made of sterner stuff.

“I am so glad the Duchess was able to obtain a voucher for you, Mr. Chulanont. Does he also have permission to dance the waltz this year?”

“Does it matter? Nikiforov—excuse me, the Duke—says that Yuuri swore to obey _him,_ not Lady Jersey, and as far as he is concerned Yuuri may waltz as much as he pleases as long as he does not stand up with anyone but his husband.” Mr. Chulanont laughed. “Forgive my rudeness! Since we are practically brothers now he insists I do not need to stand on formality.”

“I would never abandon my manners over something as slight as a friendship. The distinction of classes must be preserved.”

Before any more barbs could be flung—for the dressing room had emptied as the other omegas left lest they be bloodied in the crossfire—the door swung open to admit the subject of their conversation.

The Duchess, Yuuri Nikiforov, stepped into the room.

His gown was dark blue, with embellishments that sparkled in the light and that wound down the bodice towards the skirt enticingly. The gloves he wore were dark as well, and leather, but rather than being loose as was currently all the rage, they were fitted like a second skin from fingertip to bicep. A tiara of silver with lapis lazuli flowers set in it was atop his black hair; around his neck and wrists were jewels, fat sapphires with red rubies as attendants, every gem sparkling like the eyes of a maiden in love.

No one could ever mistake him for an innkeeper’s son. He could have passed for the fae protagonist of a ballad of old.

Misses Bingley and Withers were all agape as he shut the door behind him.

“Phichit!”

“Yuuri! Your dress.”

“What of it?” Duchess Nikiforov asked. “Vitya said that it was fine.”

“Duke Nikiforov would never say anything to you, he is completely helpless. You are wearing dancing pumps tonight, I hope?”

“He is not,” he said, without any real conviction. “And of course I am, it only happened once!” He appeared to notice the other two occupants for the first time. “How do you do?”

“Very well,” both of them managed.

“Very good. Yes.” Yuuri bowed very slightly. “Phichit, come, Captain Giacometti wants to meet you.”

“Is he the one whose tailor needs to loosen his pantaloons?”

“....he’s Swiss?”

“If you insist.” Mr. Chulanont gave the ladies a final nod before following the Duchess out the door.

“Well, I never,” Miss Withers said, after some moments had passed and she found that there was no criticism she could make of the Duchess’s clothes or address. He made her look positively ancient by comparison.

“Quite,” Miss Bingley agreed.

They exchanged significant looks. For all that they were women of mean morals and scant sympathy, their kinship with one another was real. They felt that the other alone truly understood their plight: they had been brought up too high to be satisfied with a husband without every mark of social success, but their ancestors’ bent for trade had ruined their chances through no fault of their own.

Side by side, they slipped back into the ballroom proper and took up their places to await gentlemen and lady alphas who would seek their hands for the first set. In this, they were not disappointed; partners made themselves known to them quickly and when the ball opened, they were off.

In this manner the first half of the ball proceeded very nicely. Miss Bingley, while she had not yet found a promising alpha to set her cap at this season, was never without a partner and was asked to dance by alphas who knew their steps and who appreciated her command of the modern languages. Miss Withers too never had to sit out a dance, and furthermore her first partner could not stop looking at her and returned to claim her again for the supper set.

The only fly in the ointment for these two ladies was that every dance was danced by Duchess Nikiforov. This would have been shocking enough, as the ball was being hosted by his aunt by marriage, and he ought to have been acting as hostess; but as he was a newlywed and inexperienced besides, he might have been forgiven for this misstep. Miss Bingley might have even condescended to pity him for it.

But his partner in every set was his own husband, the Duke, who was more attentive to him than he was to his own manners. More than one omega had hoped to have him stand up with them, as he was known to dance well, but he never released his husband long enough for another alpha to steal the Duchess away.

The Duchess blushed, as the supper hour approached and people whispered, but did nothing. As the music died down and the couples began to line up to enter the dining room, the smell of white soup in the air, there was an added indignity to seeing the Duke and Duchess go in near the head of the line: Mr. Chulanont was on Captain Giacometti’s arm.

Miss Bingley and Miss Withers took seats together, near the hapless Lady Glastonbury. Without speaking both of them were of the same mind; some flaw in the Duchess would have to be found, lest the weight of their inadequacies in comparison crush them both.

“Lady Glastonbury, you must tell us about his grace the Duchess,” Miss Withers purred. “Why, he is stunning! I hardly recognize him.”

“He was so plain before. Marriage agrees with him,” Miss Bingley added.

“He is the most original omega I have ever met.” Lady Glastonbury took a sip of her wine and sighed. “Why, we invited him for dinner two nights ago, and do you know what he did?”

“What?”

“Well, he was at home, and the Duke out, so they did not arrive together. The Duke arrived first, and the Duchess was meant to come with Lord Feltsman. But if you can believe this, he arrived—on foot!”

“On foot!”

“And in his dinner dress as well! Though he had a very sturdy overcoat and walking boots.”

“Why ever would he do that?” Miss Withers was too bewildered to be offended. She could not imagine walking anywhere in town alone at night; she was certain that something would befall her if she dared it.

“Well—oh, it was the funniest thing—the Duke asked him why he hadn’t come in a carriage and the Duchess said, ‘Oh...we have more than one?’ And when we asked why he never hailed a hackney he said, ‘I don’t have any money!’”

Miss Bingley, whose knowledge of money was such that she could have priced the Duchess’s clothing to the penny and reliably described the income of every eligible alpha she knew, choked.

“The poor Duchess told me during my morning call the next day that after the party, nothing would do for the Duke until he took the Duchess into his study and showed him where the safe was. Can you imagine? He _walked_ all across London because he hadn’t received his pin money! But he was very civil to me, even though I am hardly out and he is married and settled already.”

“How...nice.”

Miss Withers thought, rather unkindly, that Lady Glastonbury would never be married and settled if she did not learn to keep quiet.

There was little else to gleaned at dinner for Misses Bingley and Withers. Despite their best efforts, no one could be coaxed to speak ill of the Duchess or the Duke. Their scandalous behavior was considered only eccentric; their exquisite clothing was thought to imbue upon them every other sign of good breeding; their odd habits were being discussed as forward thinking and reasonable.

One pair of omega twins, firmly against Mr. Katsuki a season before, were now firmly convinced that he was one of the most intelligent men they had ever met. He swam, they said, with his husband, and he walked frequently, and he was clearly in fine health; every omega ought to ape his level of activity. The twins had barely declared their intention to walk daily in their garden for an hour before another man, a noted dandy, spoke of how the Duchess’s new style of gloves sent him into raptures.

Several guests surreptitiously tried tugging their gloves to see what they would look like tighter.

As for the Duke, no one could blame him for falling so madly in love, nor fault him for behaving honorably. It was agreed that a lonely but rich alpha ought to exercise his power of choice when choosing a spouse, when his family members were few and his house empty.

In short, they were quickly made sensible and charming by everyone.

By the time supper was being cleared, Misses Bingley and Withers were entirely defeated. Every avenue of attack had been thwarted; not one scrap of damning information nor one resentful ally remained with them. It was clear to these two lady omegas that if they wished to improve their station in life, they would have to worm their way into the Nikiforovs’ good graces.

And so, after supper and between sets, the two of them sought out the Duchess. He was on Duke Nikiforov’s arm, drinking lemonade out of a glass and laughing as his spectacles slipped down his nose. The Duke reached out and pushed them back up for him.

“Good evening,” the Duke said when he caught sight of them.

“Your grace,” Miss Bingley said with a very proper curtsy. Beside her Miss Withers followed suit.

The Duke’s waistcoat matched his husband’s dress and his cravat pin had a sapphire to match the Duchess’s jewels. They were well-matched, both in the details of their attire and in the bright smiles on their faces. The Duchess passed him his glass of lemonade, and the Duke went so far as to drink from it.

Miss Withers shuddered. “This is a lovely ball.”

“Isn’t it? And my Yuuri the loveliest of all.”

“Vitya,” the Duchess said. “Please.”

“My Yuuri doesn’t like it when I flatter him,” the Duke said cheerfully, “but as we are married now he has no escape and will just have to learn to tolerate it.”

“I can always poison you,” the Duchess said mildly.

He received several stares in response to this comment. Miss Bingley tried desperately to think of something really cutting to say.

“So frightening you are,” the Duke said. He handed the glass in his hand back to his husband. “Drink up, my darling, this is our dance.”

The music for the waltz was indeed beginning, and both Miss Bingley and Miss Withers hurried to curtsy before they took their seats. Neither of them were permitted to waltz, and they watched with great jealousy as the other omega ladies and gentlemen were taken to the floor and twirled about. It was a dance that promoted intimacy and brought to mind all kinds of things which well-bred omegas were meant to remain in ignorance of.

In their attempts to catch husbands, the two ladies had learned any number of shocking things about indelicate subjects, and so both of them when asked professed a dislike for the waltz. But even if their dislike had been unfeigned, both of them felt that the way the Nikiforovs danced it made it look like the best dance ever created.

The end of the ball came as a quite a relief for them; they piled into Miss Withers’ uncle’s carriage together and groaned in unison.

“Can you believe it?”

“He is so…”

“He is so…”

“I suppose the modiste could fringe my wrap with beads. Green ones.”

“I suppose my gloves can be altered, the season is barely begun.”

“He would not mind if we called on him, would he?”

“We can take Lady Glastonbury.”

The two of they exchanged matching looks.

“You know,” Miss Bingley mused, “Colonel Warby seemed particularly interested in you.”

“Indeed,” Miss Withers said.

“Indeed, and he has no sisters or mother. A fine thing for you. We shall go to the modiste in the morning.” Miss Bingley fanned herself, as she often did when she was thinking and could not get up to pace. “And as for myself…”

“As for yourself?”

“I believe Duke Nikiforov has a cousin who would suit me nicely. Recently jilted. No doubt in need of comfort.”

“Caroline, you never comforted anyone in your whole life.”

“Eleanor!”

“What? It is true. You are better off ignoring him charmingly and making him thinking courting you is all his own idea.”

“Perhaps we ought to ask the Duchess what methods he used to entrap his grace.”

“Perhaps.”

They gave one another secret smiles as the carriage pulled up alongside Miss Bingley’s sister’s house. Mrs. Hurst was in a delicate condition and Mr. Hurst preferred to begin drinking early and stop drinking late, so the house was dark; only a footman remained at the door to assist her in.

“You had better come with me to the modiste first thing in the morning, Caro!”

“I will!”

Over the next few weeks, shawls and wraps acquired heavy fringes with beads and bells and jewels. Gloves were worn fitted to above the elbow, laced up with brightly colored ribbons. A number of omegas joined forces to create walking groups that took the air daily in very plain pelisses and boots, in order to improve their health.

Miss Withers was married at the end of the season, and became Mrs. Warby with great pleasure, moreso at finally being able to wear a cap than due to any particular inclination for the Colonel. Miss Bingley’s hopes for Georgi Popovich came to naught, but as she disliked him excessively upon their first meeting, she did not think of it as a failure on her part but on his. She lived with Mrs. Warby for three years following the Warbys’ wedding, and when Colonel Warby was deceased in battle, the two ladies set up house together in town and lived together for the rest of their days.

Neither of them ever made significant inroads in friendship with Lady Glastonbury, and they were confined to envying their wealthier peers from afar at balls.

And as for the Duke and Duchess? They continued to be very scandalously in love with each other, and to spend a suspicious number of hours alone in their library. They published a number of texts of geometry that were well received, and they adopted a kennel full of hunting dogs that they doted on excessively, and they ignored entirely all the nonsensical advice given by the parson’s wife and others of her ilk.

When they chose, their house was always full, and when they were tired of company, they retreated up to their estate, closed in by the snow, and spent every hour in perfect bliss with each other. They grew quite old that way, though it did not make any difference in the number of compliments the Duke bestowed on his husband at balls.

Long after they had been quite forgotten by the Miss Bingleys and Miss Withers of the world, they continued to be very happy.

**Author's Note:**

> okay so i'm actually done with this now, i swear!
> 
> however, if you're thirsty for regency aus, good news: in addition to this one, i have another one posted, and am writing a third. and also alykapedia has her regency au that is...the best, for real. and also spookyfoot has one. the good content is out there, my dudes.


End file.
